


The Kiss of Death

by Zasa



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 09:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zasa/pseuds/Zasa
Summary: Arthur fights and snake and loses. Dutch is the only one around to suck the venom out.





	The Kiss of Death

Things had changed, as things often do. Years had at once crept and flown by. Suddenly the small gang of three had grown to twenty-some. Arthur was nearing forty, an age he thought he'd never get close to seeing. He had had a son and lost him, had a fiance and lost her. He had seen the rise and fall of all the love and hatred that ever enveloped the Van Der Linde gang. But after Blackwater, things had felt even less stable than usual. Their home kept shifting to wherever the Pinkertons might overlook. People were beginning to doubt the likelihood of their survival - beginning to doubt Dutch. Everyone kept fighting. Kept drinking. All while Dutch and Hosea were wasting time trying to swindle two families, neither of which seemed to have any real fortune besides the notoriety of their names. 

But Arthur played along. 

When Dutch asked him to ride, he did so without all the hesitation he'd been feeling in his gut since moving to Clemens Point. He let Dutch pin the deputy badge to his shirt before they took off that evening, Arthur keeping his eyes to the ground while Dutch slid a hand into his shirt to keep him from getting pricked

"Let's go see how we can get into Gray's good graces today," Dutch said. "Leave your satchel and guns here. Don't wanna look like trouble."

He played along because Dutch needed him, and as long as Dutch needed him, he had reason to keep going. 

Rhodes had left a bad taste in his mouth, some of it being from the dust in the air, but most of it because Sherriff Gray had decided to send his newest deputies back to the swamps to scout out more distilleries. It was waste of time and, frankly, and insult. Gray had them doing grunt work.

"He's just usin' us," Arthur said, breaking the silence that had followed them out of town. The air was getting damp, compacting all the dust in his lungs until it felt like he was breathing around bricks. Trees began sprouting up in tighter bundles, the leaves thick and green, the water greener. He heard the distinct snap of a gator’s jaws snapping shut.

"As is what we agreed to." Dutch looked over his shoulder, his body shifting with the Count's canter. "We do everything he asks so that when we ask something of him, he can't in good manner refuse. That's how the good ol' boys do it, Arthur. Social standing is far more important than morality."

"What're you gonna ask of 'em, then?"

"I haven't decided yet. But believe me when I say it will be all worth it."

It pained Arthur that he didn't believe him. He had heard Dutch's clear, calming lies for twenty years now. He could pick out what was truth and what was meant to placate. The fact that Dutch couldn't even bring himself to be honest with Arthur hurt most, however. It was a sure sign of how screwed they really were.

Arthur felt naked without his guns but followed Dutch on foot into the trees where they'd just recently blown up a still, the charred remains crunching under their boots like bones. 

"There are some houses a little ways over there. Bill and I gunned down a good chunk of the population, but I suppose it's a good as place as any to check if you're wanting to hogtie some poor fella."

Dutch sent him a sharp look that made his chest hollow out. "You know, I could just ask Hosea to come with me next time if you're gonna act like this."

Arthur's mouth went dry. Finally, Dutch had asked for his company and he was ruining it. It never used to matter what nonsense he and Dutch got into, Arthur just enjoyed having the man at his side, holding his attention, getting to really look at him and hear him and feel the warmth of his hands whenever Dutch awarded him with a loving pat on the back. 

But perhaps it was better this way. All the distance had nearly extinguished the sweltering heat that ripped through his insides when he thought of Dutch. All Dutch had done was show him the slightest bit of attention and all the wrong and misplaced feelings to came crashing back. 

"Maybe that's a good idea," Arthur blurted.

Dutch's gaze went cold. "Well. Lead the way. Sooner we find something the sooner you can go back to slipping out of camp for weeks at a time while the rest of us work to solve this mess."

Words never usually bothered Arthur. It was action that spoke the clearest. But he felt his chest puffing for a fight. He only ever went out to bring back food and money, and if Dutch thought otherwise then he had no idea who Arthur was. His family came first and he tried his hardest to keep them fed and happy, no matter how detrimental it was to his own health. He did it for no other reason except out of love, something he thought Dutch could very well learn from. 

He almost said as much. Almost dared to ask Dutch if he could read, because the ledger was crammed with his name and void of Dutch’s. But it was pointless. Disagreeing with Dutch used to be a reason for deeper conversation. Now it was reason for a fight.

Arthur withered instead of argued, taking up the lead, Dutch's glare burning into the back of his head. 

The bodies were gone, but even last night’s rain hadn’t rid of the bloodstains in the dirt. Arthur led Dutch all the way to the small dock without seeing another soul, even checking every dark corner of every house, save for the one that had buckled in the soft swampy earth.

“They’ve cleared out,” Arthur said, eyes catching on a mass of brain matter clinging to the wall before landing on Dutch. “I guess without a still there ain’t much reason to hang around anymore.”

Dutch said nothing, but his expression screamed of exhaustion that he normally kept better hid. It sent a knife through Arthur’s heart. How he missed seeing Dutch’s true face. The more eyes they got in camp the deeper Dutch had shoved his emotions. 

“We can split up,” Arthur suggested. “Maybe find something faster that way. I’d about guess they—“

“I suppose you were right.”

Arthur hesitated. “...about?”

“This being a dumb idea.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to say it.” Dutch slumped against one of the houses, his hat shadowing his face. “I’m sorry, son. For wasting your time and mine. Perhaps it’s time I stop fooling myself. All this busy work - it feels like progress, but it’s far from it. I just feel sort of...lost.”

Arthur started moving toward him, clenching his hands when he made himself stop. As much as it looked like Dutch could use some form of contact, Arthur had gotten much too old to act clingy. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“People keep looking at me for answers I don’t have. I know I got us in this mess but...” Dutch shook his head. “And Molly. She wants to be in my ear twenty-four seven. Just wants to talk, she says, only that always ends in screaming.”

Arthur gave a sympathizing hum, but found him self feeling far more sorry for Molly than Dutch. Dutch had bedded her, built her up to be this thing he needed, only to completely cease trying when things had gotten hard. “You’ll work it out, Dutch.”

“I just don’t know that I will.”

“Maybe,” Arthur began, swallowing against the knot in his throat, “you should ask for some space—“

“Break it off with Molly, you mean.”

“I mean, ask for space from everyone. Take some time for yourself. Get some decent sleep. The gang’s only as good as its leader. If you have to run away to some backwoods hotel for a few hours of silence, so be it. Run off, Dutch. I won’t tell a soul.”

Dutch had lifted his face, the sun brightening his dark eyes. Arthur couldn’t bear to look at them for long, couldn’t shake the feeling that he was seeing too much in them. “You’re a good man, Arthur.”

“You helped raise me.”

“Then it must have been your momma that made you so understanding. It surely weren’t me.”

Arthur managed a step closer, eyes toward the caved-in house. “If you’re wantin’ proof that we did somethin’ out here, I might be able to find some shine to take back to Sheriff Gray.” 

Dutch peeled himself off the wall. “Yeah?” 

“If I were makin’ something that was illegal, I’d be hiding it in the buildin’ that looks way too unstable to enter.”

Dutch looked where Arthur did. “You think?”

“I don’t know if Gray’s really gonna care if we bring him some jugs of that poison, but if you’re determined to do something for him, I’d rather crawl into that death trap and get you somewhere to rest than spend our day searchin’ for Braithwates.

“Kindness extends too far when you’re willin’ to get yourself hurt for someone else.”

“I think that’s the definition of kindness.”

“That’s the definition of love, and even then—”

“I’m doin’ it.” Arthur started for the house, running from the L word. Of course he loved Dutch and of course Dutch knew as much, but with all the heat that had been swimming in his stomach for Dutch the past few years, Arthur would rather avoid the topic like the white plague.

The walls had crumpled beneath the untethered weight of the roof, but there was just enough space to crawl in where the door had once stood.

“Arthur, wait. Let’s just forget it. Head home. It ain’t worth it.”

Too late. Arthur was already waist deep inside the house, squirming closer to the fallen rafters that split the wood floor wide open and let grass sprout up through it. Arthur thought he could see something - something like a chest - in the far corner when he felt a sharp pain bite into his thigh. He jerked, rolling over, expecting to see a hornet’s nest he had overlooked. Instead he saw a coiled snake.

Arthur crawled backward, fast as his arms and legs could move, and popped out on the other side with Dutch’s confused frown as a greeting. He held his tongue, only sparing a glance toward his thigh. 

“What’s wrong?”

“There might be somethin’ in there, but there’s no gettin’ to it.”

“What else is wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothin’s wrong. I think I just...” Arthur reached for his satchel, remembering too late that Dutch had requested he leave it at camp. He had no tonics. “I, uh...I gotta piss.”

“...okay.”

Arthur surged toward the water, stepping out of Dutch’s line of sight and behind a tree. He worked his pants to his knees and tore a small hole into his union suit, just on the inside of his left thigh. A snake bite looked back at him, and judging by the three marks, a poisonous one.

You fool, Morgan, he thought.

He returned to Dutch, already feeling his skin swelling at the bite. He could hardly hear himself talk over his heartbeat in his ears, could hardly calm it with the thought of poison seeping deeper into his veins. “I’m sorry, Dutch. I think I better head back to camp.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just...better.”

“Arthur,” Dutch said, sharp enough to pull Arthur’s splintered attention. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I...” he trailed off. What were the options besides Dutch’s mouth on him? He refused to ask, refused to hear Dutch play it off and try taking him to a doctor. It might be too late at that point, and it would definitely be too late for Arthur’s pride, having heard Dutch make every excuse on why he wouldn’t put his mouth to Arthur’s leg. Maybe if he’d been a beautiful woman, he wouldn’t have feared asking. Or at the very least a beautiful man. People had a hard time refusing fine lookers, but Arthur was so beyond beauty he imagined Dutch wouldn’t touch him anywhere below the belt with a ten-foot pole, no matter the issue.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Dutch repeated, though his voice had gone almost soft with something akin to concern. It was the voice-and the question-he’d used on Arthur when Mary had broken things off and Arthur had decided going mute was the only way to keep from screaming.

Arthur looked up the road, toward the area they had hitched their horses. Dutch stepped into his view. “Arthur.”

“I’m a goddamn fool and crawled over a goddamn snake.”

As if to drive the point home, a fierce rattling began just inside the sunken house. Dutch’s wide eyes went from the doorway to Arthur. “That snake?”

Arthur swallowed. “The bastard was silent, but from what I saw of him...it was that snake.”

Dutch was one him, hands squeezing his arms until he thought better of it, yanking them back and letting them hover. “Where?” he snapped. Arthur patted his thigh, watching Dutch’s eyes trail to the spot before flicking back up. “Well take off your pants then!”

“Dutch, you can’t be serious.” 

“As serious as-as fucking rattlesnake venom. Get your pants off. Now!”

“Rhodes is—or Saint Denis—”

“They’re still hours away on horse. Get. your. pants. off.”

“Dutch—“

Dutch grabbed his belt, popping the buckle open and ripping it off Arthur’s hips. “I don’t know why you’ve gone all shy all of the sudden, but you sure as hell better get those things off unless you want me to rip them off you myself.”

Oh God, why’d he have to say it like that?

Arthur pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and worked his pants back down to his knees, dropping his head to hide the heat creeping to his face and to tear his union suit a little wider.

Dutch cursed, tugging Arthur to the dirt path by his elbow. At least from there they’d be able to spot any snakes that might slither too close. “Sit.”

Arthur did, holding his breath when Dutch leaned in toward his lap, calloused fingers trailing his bare skin before grabbing his legs and straightening them so he could get his face closer. 

And then there was the warm wet press of open lips on his inner thigh. Dutch’s lips. Arthur bit his tongue, leaning back on his elbows to keep from shoving Dutch away. There was the quick brush of Dutch’s tongue and then he was sucking.

It hurt. The spot was tender and Dutch was sucking hard enough for his cheeks to hollow, but still searing heat and heavy pressure sank into his groin. He hoped it was the poison. 

Dutch came up for air and spat off his his right. Arthur relaxed. Crisis averted, he thought. And then Dutch’s descended, lips sealing over the bite, Arthur twitching in places that Dutch could never know about. 

Arthur squirmed this time. “It’s fine. I’m sure you got it.”

Dutch lifted his head, a string of saliva trailing from Arthur’s thigh to his lips. Dutch’s eyes flicked to Arthur’s reddened cheeks and Arthur stared at Dutch’s swollen mouth, a mouth that was slowly breaking into a smile.

Dutch went back down, Arthur flinching, and looked up through his lashes to hold Arthur’s gaze. 

“Uh, Dutch,” Arthur began, steeling his voice, trying everything in his power to keep from stuttering. “What’re you doin’?”

Dutch pulled back and spat, the smile returning. “Well I thought it was obvious, Arthur.”

“N-not anymore.”

One of Dutch’s hand came to rest on Arthur’s opposite thigh, fingers squeezing, almost massaging. He returned to Arthur’s bite, sucking softer this time, lips sliding up to caress unmarked flesh. Arthur sidled backwards, hoping his arms had enough strength to pull him away from Dutch.

Dutch gripped him tighter, face edging up even higher.

“Dutch.”

He bit Arthur’s thigh, just below his balls, and Arthur moaned. 

It surprised them both, Arthur going slack-jawed at the realization of what he’d just done, Dutch’s eyes going wider, giving all the light a chance to expose just how blown his pupils were.

“Interesting.”

“This is not how snakebites work.”

“I have my own special techniques.”

“You-ah!”

Another bite to his thigh, Dutch’s nose just barely brushing the stiffness of his cock. Arthur sank to his back, electricity spiking across his nerves. His eyelids fluttered. 

“It’s been a long time since you let a woman do this for you, I see.”

“Shut up.”

Dutch laughed, a low rumble of a sound that sent chills down Arthur’s back. What the fuck was going on? Dutch was—

Dutch was popping the buttons over Arthur’s dick.

Arthur sat up quick, slapping Dutch’s hand away. “What in the hell are you thinkin?” Arthur screamed it, all the pent up frustration returning as soon as Dutch was moving back. “Molly’s gonna skin you and me both.”

Dutch glanced at Arthur’s bite again - or maybe where Arthur was throbbing harder. “That’s what’s bothering you? After all that, you’re just worried about Molly?”

“Yes?”

Molly was already half-crazed thinking Dutch had eyes for Mary-Beth. It was more of a death wish to cross her than it would be to crawl back toward the rattlesnake.

“Arthur, we’re talking about me here. I just tried to get in your pants. Another man. In your pants.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I got the message.”

The grin was returning. “You rascal. You don’t mind at all that it’s me.”

“I’m only hard because it IS you.”

Arthur actually slapped himself, running his hand down to pinch the bridge of his nose. Dutch laughed, and when Arthur glanced up, he was closer, Dutch’s breath hot against his cheek, hands suddenly running down Arthur’s sides. Arthur titled his head back, allowing Dutch access to his throat without thinking. Teeth dug into the sensitive skin. Arthur swallowed a gasp.

“This...don’t feel right,” Arthur croaked.

Dutch kissed his jaw. “Feels right to me. Like maybe I should have done this sooner.”

Arthur nearly moaned at the words alone. Dutch wanted him. Dutch was moving to straddle him.

Arthur shoved him. “Get off.”

Dutch fell back, hands up like Arthur had pulled a gun on him. “What?” Dutch’s voice cracked.

“Molly deserves better than this.”

“Molly only /thinks/ we’re exclusive.”

“Well she better know for sure before we do anything.”

“Arthur—”

“I’m serious. It ain’t...it ain’t right. She’s...I’m....I’ve been waiting for this for too long to regret it.”

Dutch perked up, expression twisting into something Arthur couldn’t quite read, but Dutch was straining against his pants. That said enough. “You been waiting for this, Arthur?”

“No. That’s not...No.”

“Uh-huh. Right. Well,” Dutch stood and dusted himself off, “let’s call it a day. I admit I don’t have much experience with sucking men off, so there might be traces of poison. Nothing a tonic can’t remedy.”

“Do you really gotta word it like that?” Arthur said, yanking his suspenders over his shoulders.

“Yes. And I’ll make it up to you, so don’t worry if this time wasn’t enough to drain you.”

“Jesus Christ, Dutch.”

“What? I’m still talking about the snake bite.”

“Sure.”

*

Arthur had slid into his cot for the night when Molly’s shout rang through the camp, the singing by the fire stopping dead.

“What do ya mean you’ve found someone else? Which one of them, huh?”

Arthur’s grogginess slipped away, waiting to hear his name, waiting for Molly to put a knife to his throat and to see the knives in everyone else’s eyes when they realized what desires lingered inside him.

But Molly spent the next few hours drinking by the fire with Uncle, cursing the nameless harlot that had seduced Dutch. Hearing her anger sour into sorrow felt worse than a knife to his throat would have. He slipped out of his cot and between the flaps of Dutch’s tent, squinting into the darkness.

“Dutch?” he whispered.

From the inky black came hands, large and rough, twisting into his own. “Care to join me for that hotel getaway you mentioned?”

He had intended to tell Dutch that Molly needed him, that he should forget what he’d said and treat Molly the way she deserved, something he’d never done. But then he felt the soft brush of lips, and his heart seized with something he’d been missing for years upon years: honest-to-God love.

“I’d love to join you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry Molly :(
> 
> But you’re welcome Arthur ;)


End file.
